


Glitter on the Nightstand

by KindListener



Category: Rocketman (2019)
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Bernie is a Good Wingman, M/M, References to Drugs, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 19:32:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19235677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KindListener/pseuds/KindListener
Summary: A singer-songwriter. A bartender at the most recent hotel. Something was bound to happen.





	Glitter on the Nightstand

**Author's Note:**

> Not RPF. I just have a thing for Eggerton.

Dark hair, light eyes, short-sighted, longing stare.  
“Just a beer, please.” Bernie had fetched a drink from the bar as the raven-haired bartender had stood, trying not to return Elton’s curious stare. “He knows you’re staring. Stop it. You’ll scare him off.” Bernie chuckles, setting the drink down.  
“I’m not... Staring, I mean.” The pink in the apples of his cheeks are telling and Bernie gives him a look. “Did you grab my vodka?”  
“No. I figured you could get it yourself.” Bernie flips his shoulder length hair and laughs as Elton gets up.

On his platforms, Elton wanders up to the bar, hips a-sway.  
“Hey, could I get a...vodka?” He gets lost in the bartender’s dark brown eyes.  
“Of course.” Thin fingers wander around chilled glasses, picking out ice cubes and finding a bottle of expensive vodka to pour. When he sets the drink on the bar, Elton’s warm fingers touch his and a shock spasms through them. “Sir...” His stare is intense, dark and tempting. They grow closer and closer, until their lips are but centimetres apart. The pianist can feel his hot breaths on his face; booze and mint on his breath. Elton draws back, takes the drink and downs it in one.  
“I want you on my bed, sailor.” He whispers, a hand cupping the bartender’s cheek just before he turns. “Number 609.” He yells behind him and Bernie chuckles into his beer.

609\. His dark hair, slightly, mussed, the bartender calls to the door, knocking on the hard wood.  
“Come in.” The reply is demanding and provocative and he reaches down to open the door. In his open dressing gown, Elton closes the door and presses his new toy against it, drawing close enough to kiss, his wrists tight enough to bruise.  
“What do you want, sweetheart?” His tone is predatory, the kind of voice you would expect from the tall grass before the lion pounces.  
“You wanted me here.”  
“But you wouldn’t have come if you didn’t want to.” He leans closer to the bartender’s ear, whispering, low and base. “So, I’ll ask again; what do you want, sweetheart?” His palm slides down, cupping the bartender’s behind, making him purr in response. He pauses, formulating a satisfactory response.  
“I want you. I wanted you since I heard your voice. Since I heard your piano. Since you walked into my bar.” It falls from his lips in a rush of lust. “I shouldn’t have to tell you what I want. I just want you...sir.”  
“Elton, please— Wait, keep the ‘sir’.”

Rain patters against the window, drowning out the sound of the traffic, as those long fingers find the dip between Elton’s collarbones, feeling his racing pulse under the clammy skin. Lip to lip, tongue to tongue. A groan slips out, somewhere, and it spurs them on, Elton fingering at the buttons in the bartender’s waistcoat, then his shirt. The bartender licks a wet stripe up the pianist’s throat, feeling him shiver under the sensation. Teeth all on his neck, Elton groans, hot and heady, into the heavy air of his room. There would be bruises all over his throat, tomorrow. With every bite, he could feel his resolve slipping away, his mind swept into the ocean of lust that pools, deep inside. The dark sea of need that calls to him. He yields, grabbing onto the short dark hair, taking him deeper, deeper, deeper...

When did he get naked? Nevermind. Nevermind, now, because everything feels...good. In a haze of alcohols and pleasure, he can feel his resolve disappear, turning to want, turning to a fiery need. His slender fingers flex against the pillows before tightening in their fabric.  
“Oh, fuuuuck...” The hot, squirming tongue against his entrance makes his spine quiver pleasure up his frame, his toes curling and fanning out at the sensation. A hand of Elton’s reaches back, pushes the dark-haired man in further, his tongue breaching him and making him groan. An alien hand reaches around his thighs, grasping his erect cock, and jerking it. Fireworks explode behind his eyes and Elton nearly screams, rocking back and forth, between a torturous tongue and a horrifying hand. Mercifully, the bartender eases up but the pianist whines at the lack of sensation. Landing a playful swat to his behind, the bartender smiles.  
“I want you to open yourself up for me.” He sighs, running a fingertip against the spit-slick muscle of Elton’s entrance. “Get yourself nice and wide for me.” He purrs, placing kisses all up the pianist’s spine. Eventually, he reaches Elton’s face, kissing him, chastely. Breathless, Elton turns onto his back, reaching down to push two fingers into himself. The bartender watches them disappear, hearing the voice of the angels as Elton scissors his fingers in and out. Always ready to give a bit more, the young, dark-haired man wraps his lips around the crown of Elton’s girth, his tongue pressed to the head, paying close attention to the slit at the tip.  
“Oh, fuck, yes!” With the taste of Elton’s cock on his tongue, the bartender can watch him pleasure himself with his fingers, adding more. He pulls himself off, turning to look into those jade green eyes, blurred, slightly, by his glasses.  
“Come for me, Elton.” He commands, leaning down to kiss his lover, again, and that tips him over the edge.  
“Oh, God... Fuckin’ Hell, yes!”

Time starts and stops, every feeling heightened by drugs and booze.  
“C’mon, suck it!” He demands, the tongue of the dark-haired man still coiled around his cock. “Gooood boy...” He sighs, leaning back against the headboard, as the bartender rocks his head back and forth, swallowing down inch after inch. “What a good, good boy you are...” His hair is matted with sweat and he’s beautiful. “If you’re really lucky, I might let you bounce that pretty, little arse on that cock, in a bit.” That seems to get him moving. “Just imagine how good my cock’ll feel in you, hitting all the right spots, as I drag my fingers down your back and you pull my hair.” The bartender moans in response, the vibrations sending ripples through Elton’s body,

It’s tender and sweet as the bartender shoves Elton against the bathroom sink. His neck and shoulder blades are plagued with dark red marks.  
“Watch your pretty face while I fuck you.” The dark-haired man grows more and more confident and Elton can get used to this. He shoves in, nice and hard, groaning at the syrupy texture of the pianist’s insides. Eyes rolling back into his hair, Elton groans and pants, feeling the flesh sliding in and out of his perfect frame.  
“Harder... I can take it harder.” The singer whines as the bartender pulls out torturously slow.  
“Of course, sir.” His tone is more predatory, more like Elton’s. Grabbing onto that pianist’s angular pelvis for anchorage, the bartender pulls out slow and then rocks his hips back in, violently, his pelvis crashing into Elton’s and making this tremendous slapping noise. Fast and fast and fast and he can see the blush in his cheeks, the sweat on his brow, his eyes rolling into his head at the sheer amount of pleasure. The sounds go wet and Elton can feel his newfound lover filling him with his hot come. The sensation makes him shiver and curse as the bartender leans down to press his clammy cheek to Elton’s marked shoulder.

Back on the bed, Elton runs a single fingertip up the bartender’s side, hearing his breath catch in his throat. A soft kiss is pressed to his cheek. They both sobered up but that didn’t stop them from pouncing on each other. It’s slower, now. There’s time to study him; his dark eyes reflecting in the low light of the room’s lamps. Tired and damp, Elton presses his body to the bartender’s, gasping when a thigh comes up to brush against his overly sensitive cock. Multiple orgasms had torn through him and, now, his body feels like one big nerve ending, any sensation making him twitch and cry out. It gives the other man an idea.

The belt from his suit pants binds Elton’s wrists to the head of the wrought iron bed frame. His legs are shaking as the bartender graces a finger against the centre of the pianist’s chest. His breath hitches.  
“So needy, sir.” He comments, sliding his fingertip down, over the light, downy hair that’s scattered across his abdomen, over his hip bones and into the inside of his thighs. So close, so close... Suddenly, he takes his sharp nails all over the inside of Elton’s thighs, hearing him whine, loud enough to wake the neighbours. Despite how many times he’s spent himself, tonight; Elton’s still hard as a rock, waiting for the dark-haired man to touch him. He does. He stares at it for a while, studies it, and the pianist can feel his cheeks heat up. But then, his hot, wet tongue slicks against the underside and Elton has to bite the inside of his cheek. He takes the length all the way down, the head somewhere in or near his throat.  
“Oh, fuck... Sweetheart, don’t tease me like—” He pulls back, straddling Elton’s hips before sinking himself onto his cock. “Oh, God, I can’t— Too—” A string of incomprehensible noises fall from the singer’s lips and the dark-haired man leans down, kissing him. He lifts himself nearly all the way up before dropping down, his body swallowing up Elton’s cock and the overly sensitive flesh can barely make it. With his long, thin fingers buried in the pianist’s hair, the bartender, gladly, fucks himself, hard and fast, on Elton’s cock, scratching at his chest and biting at his neck. He was caught in the spider’s web and, even after the thrill of the drugs and alcohol had gone, he would be here, ready to do this all over again. A couple more violent thrusts and Elton cries out, again. “I’m going to... I’m going, again...!” He groans out, his mouth ready and waiting to receive the bartender’s own. In a shower of sparks and flame, his body burns up, his last orgasm ripping up his spine as he spends himself, filling his new lover until he nearly bursts...

The morning after, headaches abound but Elton turns over to see the dark-haired bartender — his lover — beside him; his hair askew, cheeks tinted pink and his neck riddled with dark teeth marks. Feeling Elton turn in the sheets, the dark-haired youth turns to see him, scooting closer to embrace him, holding him safe within the warmth of his arms.  
“Morning, sweetheart.” The nickname is appreciated, even if it isn’t, verbally, acknowledged.  
“Morning.” He replies and Elton kisses him, softly.  
“Are you — umm... — staying for another round?” He asks and the bartender chuckles.  
“I’m afraid not. I have to set the bar for the early drinkers.” He explains and Elton looks more and more upset.  
“Did you want to go out for dinner, at some point?” He asks, more gingerly, now.  
“Well, I wouldn’t want to outstay my welcome.” Elton shuffled closer, studying the marks all over his lover’s body. Last night was terrifying and sexy and all too breath-taking. It hurts to move but it’s a good ache, the ache he ca be proud of, walking to Bernie’s room.  
“I wouldn’t worry, sweetheart... Besides, don’t you have a name?”


End file.
